


Crawling back to You

by Dicax_Asina



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Follows the game’s events, I’m not even gonna try to conceal it this is gonna be pure angst at the end, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 21:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16416035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dicax_Asina/pseuds/Dicax_Asina
Summary: Working with an Android hadn't ever been part of your plan.But then again, falling in love with Connor, the most advanced prototype created up to date, hadn't been part of your plan either.So you decided to put an end to both inconveniences - by switching working partners. And avoiding Connor whenever you could.However, said Android seems to need you as much you need him.





	1. Chapter 1

"You want to switch partners? Everything's been fine for the past year, (y/n)!" Fowler, your boss, cocked one suspicious eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you. Meanwhile, you were starting to consider just digging up a hole and crawling inside it, and never coming back out, because of two very good reasons.

First of all, the place you were in.

Fowler's office promised complete transparency and left nothing to imagination: the entire wall, hell, even the goddamn door was made out of glass. Your state could have easily been summed up as a fish in an aquarium, with all the DPD's eyes curiously glued on you. Including Hank's. The poor guy. He must have been confused, you've been getting along with him amazingly well. And yet here you were: ditching him. Asking to switch partners.

"I don't want to get mixed up with Androids." You explained, completely aware of how terrible your excuse was, in spite of it being the truth.

"It's still homicide." Fowler argued. "I don't see where you're going with this, detective (l/n)."

"I don't want to get involved with Androids." You paused and saw Connor, that confused, agonizingly curious and perfect Android, staring at you through the glass. You didn't want to look at him, not when you were like this—in such a pitiful state, directly fighting against your own self. Against your own desires. "And by that I mean my workmates."

Your boss frowned. You could already tell he was about to refuse, so you did something that damaged your already broken pride even further. 

"Please, Jeffery. I...I need you to help me out just this once." You pleaded. "I can't— I can't work with an Android."

"Lieutenant Anderson has the exact same problem. Work it out with him." He suggested.

"Please, Captain Fowler, just this once. I want to switch partners." You spoke, voice shaky. You didn't want to switch partners, of course you didn't. But if you wanted to prevent a certain disaster, that was your best bet. "I'll do anything."

"(Y/n), I'm a happily married man, and I—"

An idea formed in your head. It was horrible, awfully horrible, but it seemed to be your last and only chance to convince Fowler.

"Reed. No one wants to work with Reed, right? I can do it." You suggested. The air seemed to get stuck in your throat, because you didn't want this. You didn't want any of this. "If you pair me up with Gavin, it's two birds killed with one stone. I...I get a change of workmates, and he gets a partner."

Your boss frowned again, pinching his brow, then groaned in the slightest. "Alright, fine."

"Thank you, Jeffery. I owe you one." You forced a friendly smile onto your face as you spat out the sentence.

"Yeah, yeah." The man waved his hand dismissively as you rose from your seat, stumbling towards the exit. Your stomach felt like you had just taken a sucker punch right into your diaphragm, causing something similar to nausea to swell inside you.

You didn't want this. You had gotten along with Hank just fine for the past year, even going as far as occasionally stopping by to watch a game with him, or drink something. Your investigations had also gone well, and you couldn't deny that you and Hank made a wonderful team.

But it had ended. Just like that.

Swallowing the knot in your throat, you made your way over to your desk, slumping down on the seat.

Feelings.

Nothing but your stupid feelings were the cause of your whole situation. And you hated yourself for that.

"What's wrong, kiddo? Why'd you get called to the Captain?" You heard Hank's familiar voice come from the desk in front of yours. As someone that solved cases on an almost daily basis, he was very quick to notice how miserable you looked. "I know Fowler's an asswipe. Can't do much about that."

"I'm sorry, Hank." You croaked, propping your elbows up on the table and burying your face in your hands. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye.

"What?" The Lieutenant asked, confusion evident on his face as he furrowed his brows.

"I—..."

"She has requested a change of partners."

That hoarse, yet oh-so-gentle and warm voice explained. The very source of your entire dilemma. Connor.

"What? You're changing workmates? Why?" You heard Hank grunt, then shuffle his wheelie chair backwards.

"Hank, it's got nothing to do with you." You explained, still staring at the fake wooden texture of the table in front of your eyes.

"Yeah, 'nothing to do with me' my ass."

"I'm sorry." You were at complete loss of words. You didn't want to hurt Hank, you really didn't.

"You're just going to leave me alone to deal with this plastic piece of shit? I thought we were a-..." His words got lost, voice fading.

Silence settled over the entire station, the entire DPD seemingly staring at you, Hank, and Connor idly standing behind the Lieutenant. Everyone was waiting for something to happen, for someone to break.

"You know what? Never mind." Hank brusquely stood up from the table, stopping to look at you for one more second, then sighing. He was obviously insulted, and it was obviously your fault. Everything was your fault.

Hank was already making his way out of the station, away from you.

"Where are you going, Lieutenant?" The Android called out, steps clattering against the floor of the police station as he followed Hank like a lost puppy. Connor failed to receive an answer to his question.

You remained seated at your desk, swallowing back the tears that desperately wanted to well up in your eyes.

You had ruined everything. Your feelings had ruined everything.

Your friendship with Hank, your career...everything.

For God knows how long, you stayed like that. Listening to the chatter of your DPD colleagues and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Until you picked up on confident, decisive steps squeaking against the shiny floor of the police station. Someone was approaching your desk. However you couldn't be bothered to look up. Not when you felt so utterly, completely drained of all energy.

"Do you plan on staying like that?" The passive-aggressive manner in which the sentence had been spoken allowed you to easily identify who it was. Gavin Reed.

Gavin Reed was a strange character, you had to admit that. In spite of him always arguing with Hank, you had never directly interacted with him. Well, not until that moment.

"Sorry, I was thinking." You explained and stood up from the table, opting for a calm, polite approach. Starting a fight was the last thing you wanted. "The name is (Y/n)."

"Yeah, I know that much." The detective crossed his arms, scrunching up his nose as he seemed to be thinking. "Well, at least you're not a plastic piece of shit."


	2. Chapter 2

The entire day felt like a broken record at best. You spent it with paperwork and other nuisances, deciding that were the best approach if you wanted to get your mind off of Connor, and the fact that you had basically betrayed Hank.

However it was of no use. Connor's brown, awfully confused puppy gaze continued flooding your thoughts periodically, along with Hank's shocked, insulted voice echoing in your head.

"You're switching workmates? Why?"

An ache, deep and heavy, settled in your stomach and in your chest. Your feelings for Connor, the guilt, the want that lingered in your heary, the hate you felt for yourself-every single emotion was piling up on top of the other, building a wall of loneliness and doubt, weighing down on you.

"Hey, (y/n). Hey, asshat, I'm talking to you!" Gavin was loud enough to both grab your attention and to attract a few annoyed glances your way. You threw a quick glance outside the huge windows of the DPD, realizing that inky darkness had already settled over the streets of Detroit.

"Hm? Sorry, I was thinking." You explained hastily, using the same excuse as the last time. Gavin was standing beside your desk, one hand propped up on your table and the other holding a tablet with a flickering screen.

"Yeah, well, another homicide just came in. Hank's probably drinking his ass off right now, so we've got to take care of it." The young Detective explained.

"Let me take a look." You said and took the tablet out of his hands to inspect it. You couldn't deny that the information sounded rather intriguing. "A homicide in a strip club." You concluded.

"Yeah."

"Interesting. I should call H-" You stopped yourself before it was too late. What were you thinking? Old habits die hard, you told yourself in a hopeless attempt of shrugging it off. Shrugging off the fact that you wanted to call Hank and let him know about the case, just like (what seemed to be) old times. "Let's go. Are we taking my car?"

"I don't have a death wish, so my car." Gavin decided. You only nodded, not bothering to disagree. Not when it came to Gavin.

You followed the man outside the station, watching enter the vehicle, as you soundlessly seated yourself beside him.

The drive was mostly silent, and you certainly were thankful for it. Well, until Gavin decided to speak up. "So, a little birdie told me you specifically requested for me to be your partner."

Now that you looked at it from his perspective...it did come off as a bit odd. You realized he could have easily gotten the wrong idea from your actions, and were quick to explain. "Yes. You were the only person at the DPD without a partner, and I didn't want to work with an Android." The last part was a lie that stung like salt on a fresh wound.

"That all?" He asked, shit eating grin on his face. What was he-Oh no.

"Yes, Gavin. That is all." You answered coldly.

"Holy shit, you almost sound like that tin can."

You felt your breath catch in your throat at his words. Not in anger or annoyance, but simply at the realization that he stated the truth.

Because you did just sound a little too much like the Android you were desperately trying to distance yourself from. You did sound just like Connor.

-

"The victim's name is Michael Graham, he's 42." Ben, another cop, who had arrived at the crime scene a tad earlier than you and Gavin, explained.

He led you inside one of the private rooms, where you found a man's corpse, along with a broken Traci beside the bed.

"Hooooly shit." Gavin smiled devilishly, then proceeded to let out a barking laugh. "Look at this pervert."

You remained silent as you stepped closer to the corpse, inspecting it. You looked at the muscles, reaching for the man's arm to palpate is. Under the layer of fat, you could clearly feel the hardness of tense muscles.

"It's only been a few hours since he died." You stated. "Rigor mortis is still settled in."

"Alright, we didn't come here for Latin lessons, (y/n)." Gavin answered and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he watched you skeptically. You paid no attention to him and resumed your task.

You found that the victim had bloodshot eyes and bruises on the neck, ultimately confirming that the victim had been strangled to death.

"He's been strangulated." You added.

"Kinky." Gavin said with a chuckle. You tried, you really tried not to snap. However that was the last straw for you.

"Gavin, make yourself useful for once!"

"Make myself useful? This is bullshit, (y/n). It's just some pervert that-"

The detective was cut off by the creak of metal against metal. The door behind you opened, revealing the last two people you would have wanted to see: Hank and Connor.

Clumsily rising to your feet from beside the bed, you struggled to form a sentence.

"Hi." Was the best you could manage, however Hank only ignored you. You looked downwards in shame, failing to notice Connor nodding in your direction as a greeting. He followed the Lieutenant inside the room, accidentally brushing his shoulder against yours. You jumped in the slightest, but managed to regain your composure quickly. 

Connor's warm, sweet chocolate gaze finally connected with yours, and you could have sworn you saw something more than just his usual, calm neutrality. You could have been wrong, imagining things while completely drunk on your affection for him, but you wanted to believe. Believe that there was something more to his feelings for you.

The Android opened his mouth to say something, however was interrupted by Gavin.

"Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet. The fuck are you two doing here?"

"We've been assigned all cases involving Androids." Connor answered politely, prying his gaze off of you and setting it on Gavin.

"Oh yeah? Well, you're wasting your time. We checked the corpse. It's just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle." The Detective answered with a chuckle.

"We'll have a look anyway, if you two" Hank's eyes found yours, resting on you for a millisecond. "don't mind."

"Come on, let's go, (y/n). It's uh," Gavin only smiled slyly in Hank's direction. "It's starting to stink of booze in here."

"That's enough, Reed." You spoke before you could process it, earning a confused look from both him and Hank. Only Connor remained perfectly neutral.

Gavin's expression then shifted into one of aggression. "Listen, fucktard, you've only been in the DPD for one year. I'm the superior one here. If you ever speak like that to me again, I'll make sure you'll regret it."

"I highly doubt that would be professional of you to do, Detective Reed." Connor chimed in with a calmness you found soothing. "It could have serious consequences for your career."

"If I'll ever need career advice from a machine, I'll ask my fucking toaster." Gavin snapped back at the Android.

Then, he proceeded to smash his fist against the Android's abdomen, just the way he had at the police station a few days ago.

"What the fuck!" You reached for his shoulder, however Gavin was quick enough to storm out of the room before you and Hank could react.

The door was slammed shut in your face as you attempted to follow Gavin. Behind you, you could clearly hear the whirring of fans, accompanied by ragged, synthetic breathing.

You quickly turned around to face a still crouching Connor. Out of instinct you wanted to rush to his side and help, however Hank was faster, extending a helping hand to lift the Android up. He pat Connor's shoulder sympathetically, then looked at you.

For the first time since you had worked with Hank, you felt left out. 

"Sorry." You whispered under your breath, however didn't receive an answer. Swallowing the forming knot in your throat down, you only shook your head and left.

Once outside, you inhaled the burningly cold November air. Gavin's car was nowhere to be seen-he must've left already. Without you.

What a wonderful partner.

Sighing to yourself, you reached for your phone and called an autonomous cab, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You'll definitely need a drink after this.


	3. Chapter 3

The autonomous car was perfectly efficient, which was why you were standing in front of your home just a few minutes later.

With groggy, exhausted steps, you made your way to the front door, languidly unlocking it.

Stumbling inside your home, you locked the entrance behind yourself as you couldn't help but think back to Connor. What did he want to say to you before being interrupted by Gavin? 

Your mind told you it must have been nothing but a small detail or question-Connor's typical, yet not-so-professional way of making small talk.

Your feelings disagreed, and you wanted, you ached to believe that it was something more. That there was something more to him than just cold thoughts, than perfect logic, that he was more than a machine.

But that would be impossible, and you were perfectly aware of that.

"Ugh, fuck." You groaned under your breath, dragging yourself into the kitchen, to a familiar cabinet. To a cabinet you had opened far too often during the last week.

The furniture article creaked open with a long, dreadful squeak, revealing its contents. Two bottles of whiskey, one already half empty, a cheap water bottle filled with equally shitty Vodka you had stolen from a friend's home once, and a bottle of red wine.

You couldn't be bothered to care about your choice in beverage and just reached for the one that was closest-the cheap Vodka.

You grunted to yourself in disgust as you unscrewed the lid, the smell already too familiar for your liking. Involuntarily, you were reminded of the acidic taste of vomit on your tongue. You knew you shouldn't even be thinking about drinking, perfectly aware of how damaging (as Connor himself had explained) alcohol was. But Christ, you needed to get your mind off of your feelings, and you needed it now.

You left the bottle on the table, then walked over to the fridge, where you found an already opened energy drink. Without giving it too much thought, you poured the sickeningly sweet liquid into a glass, then added Vodka on top.

The drink wouldn't be pleasant tasting, but it would be more than enough to knock you out in no time.

Accidentally spilling some onto the floor as you took the glass in your hand with a brusque movement, you made your way to your bedroom.

With an exhausted "Oof!" you set the beverage (if one could even call it that) onto your nightstand, then crashed onto the mattress of your bed, which subtly reeked of last night's whiskey. Round, dark holes were the remnants of the hot cigar ash that had burnt through the sheets, speckled across the surface of your bed.

You reached for your phone, selecting the first tune that came up, which was, coincidentally enough, a cold, mechanical, clean-cut tune. Electric guitar, accompanied by a rhythmic drum, and a deep, skull-rattling bass.

Only one name came to mind.

Connor.

Of course it was him. That cheeky, yet innocent, yet sickeningly perfect copy of a human. God, you really did love him so, so much.

And while you were perfectly aware of his mechanical, robotic nature, your feelings refused to cooperate with reason. Not like that was something new though, you supposed.

To you, Connor was so much more than what he claimed. He was so much more than an Android.

And you absolutely hated yourself for loving him. And you hated Connor for not being able to understand feelings-your feelings- even though he had no fault in it, and you hated Hank because even though he was human, he wouldn't understand your situation. He never would. Because Hank hated Androids.

What a vicious fucking circle.

Bringing the glass of the disgusting Vodka-Energy drink mix up to your lips, ignoring the stinging, sweet smell that invaded your nostrils, you downed half of the content.

Instead of numbing your thoughts, it burnt your throat like rubbing alcohol on a wound, which only reminded you of the similar feeling in your chest.

God, you loved Connor. And it was so awfully pathetic of you-not only because he was a machine, but because you should have known better. You should have known better.

You should have known better the moment you looked into those perfect, warm, dewy dark chocolate eyes, which faked raw emotion.

You should have known better when you treated him just like a human, yet expected yourself not to fall for the whole act.

And you should have known better when you changed partners.

Your already shaky hand caused some of the drink to spill on the mattress as you brought the Vodka back to your lips again and consumed the rest of it entirely. If there was one word to describe the taste, it was disgusting. With an annoyed grunt, you set the empty glass down on the bed beside you, then bit your lip.

The room seemed to start spinning at a leisurely pace, then gradually sped up. You could feel the contents of your stomach stirring uncomfortably, yet rested your head against the headboard of your bed and hummed.

Your thoughts were slowly, but surely dying down.

The tune ended along with your thoughts, another song starting.

Have you got color in your cheeks?   
Do you ever get the feeling that you can't shift the tide  
That sticks around like something's in your teeth?

The ache, deeply rooted in your chest, was disappearing. The pain faded into numbness, the thoughts into silence.

Silence.

Finally.


	4. Chapter 4

If there was one word to describe your current state, it was 'wasted'.

With your head hanging low, forehead propped against your palm, you were staring at the terminal on your desk, struggling to identify the letters on it. Struggling to find the goddamn meaning behind the words your eyes were gliding over. Not like your pounding headache and hangover were helping with that.

Thinking back to Gavin's friendly advice of "getting your lazy ass to work fucking faster" on the paperwork, you squeezed your eyes shut, then reopened them. To no avail. The words refused to make sense to you.

"Detective (l/n)?" 

Good God, you had almost jumped out of your seat at the oh-so-familiar voice.

"Connor? Oh, hi." Your heart skipped a beat. You tried to play it cool and to not make it look like you were suffering of a dreadful hangover. From the way his smart, quick gaze continued scanning you while he talked, you could tell you had failed. Connor's LED blinked a thoughtful yellow.

"I believe you could be suffering of slight dehydration. I advise you to drink something as soon as possible to avoid any health problems." He explained with a quick nod, adding a gentle, sincere smile to his statement.

"Oh. Thank you."

The Android walked away without further ado, leaving you staring at his back. Watching the way his suit hugged his shoulders and perfect posture while he made his way over to Hank's desk.

You flinched when a cup of coffee was placed on your desk.

"Here. Figured I'd get you one too." Gavin was standing in front of you, causing Connor to slip out of your field of vision. The fellow detective was holding a cardboard cup in one hand and had set down another on your desk, which contained similarly dark, steaming liquid.

With a thankful nod, you took the cup in your hands, bringing it up to your lips, sipping the bitter liquid. Gavin hadn't added any sugar or milk to the beverage, but you couldn't care less about the taste at that point.

"Thank you, Gavin."

"Yeah." He walked away without another word.

Maybe he wasn't that bad.

-

The entire day had been quite dreadful, but then again, everything had been since you started falling in love with Connor. You couldn't even be bothered to complain when you got home at about eleven PM.

You stopped your car in front of your house, parking it with a few quick movements, then stumbled to the front door. Only seconds later, you were inside, and the ache in your chest was swelling up again.

Fuck.

You needed something to dull the pain, but Connor's worried gaze flashed before your eyes. You were certain that if he were a human, he would've already categorized you as pathetic at best. Hank probably had already.

Not only because you retorted to drinking and smoking to dull your emotions, but also because you were in love with him.

In love with a fucking Android.

The alcohol cabinet was the first destination that came to mind, and you were already subconsciously making your way to it. You disliked the idea of your recent drinking becoming a habit, and yet you held onto it for dear life. 

The wine bottle was the one that first fell in your hands, and you decided it'd be better to go for something else other than pure alcohol for once.

So that's what you did.

You poured yourself one glass, drained it, then another, and another. The cycle continued for what you approximated was an hour.

Until someone knocked at your door.

With a quick glance to the clock on your wall, your previous assumption was confirmed (it showed precisely 00:15 am). You dragged yourself to the front door, wondering what anyone could possibly want at this hour, or who it was.

With a languid, energy-deprived movement, you unlocked the door.

Though you did certainly not expect it to be none other than the source of your dilemma himself.

Connor.

"Good evening, detective."

You could not believe your eyes, and even considered the fact that you could have been very well dreaming at that moment.

"Connor, hi. What- What are you, uh, doing here?"

"I decided to investigate your current mental state before returning to Cyberlife." The Android explained innocently, playing with the sleeves of his jacket.

Of course he hadn't meant for it to sound insulting, however your mind couldn't help but interpret it that way. Did Connor see feelings as some sort of psychological problems? Did he consider you affected, then?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was hoping to receive feedback on my behavior, since I figured you might have found it bothersome when you decided to switch workmates. I did not come to reconcile, I simply wanted to understand what made you...feel that way about me. Your stress levels seemed to be rising whenever I approached you at work." Your heart almost stopped beating at his sentence. He...he just expressed worry. Not in the most human way, but the sentiment was there, you were absolutely sure of it. "And you were obviously suffering from a hangover this morning."

Oh. So he did actually notice.

Well, it was foolish of you to even think you could conceal the obvious from an Android designed to be a detective.

Your drunken mind was going haywire with emotions. Happiness: because Connor actually cared about you enough to show up at your house at midnight to check on you, and regret, because he was only making the situation more difficult for you. And also a warm, electric stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh, that. I...I was at a party and had a bit too much to drink is all." You lied, then gestured for Connor to step inside.

He understood your body language and stepped inside. The nightly wind had messed up his hair in the slightest, yet he still looked absolutely perfect, moving in a fluid and careful manner.

"So, you, um, you want me to..." Your voice trailed off. What did he want, exactly.

"I do not want anything, detective. I'm a machine. It's simply beneficial for me to improve my behavior around humans. That's why I ask of you to tell me what exactly bothered you about my behavior."

Oh. The poor thing, he was trying to see what he had done wrong. Little did he know, and far less would he understand. You had no idea how or what to say.

"Nothing bothered me about your behavior, Connor."

"You have recently taken in another alcoholic beverage. Wine." He concluded, ignoring your statement.

"Yeah." You mumbled.

"Why?"

"I..." That was a question you couldn't answer, at least not for a machine to be able to understand. You wanted to shout your heart out at Connor, to explain just how much it hurt to be in love with a machine you knew could never feel, much less feel the same. But you couldn't. You couldn't explain the dreadful process of falling in love to an Android. "Fuck." You mumbled.

His LED swirled yellow. "I don't understand." Connor tilted his head, carefully stepping closer to you. You backed away, then winced in pain as you bumped against a wooden cabinet. You regained your composure, watching Connor approach you carefully.

"You wouldn't. And you won't." You smiled sympathetically at him, watching his adorable brows furrow in utter confusion. A strand of brown, silky hair joined the already rebelling one on his forehead, brushing over the perfect, synthetic skin as he was now towering over you, LED as yellow as ever. "It's not your fault."

"I can't follow, detective." He stated. "I can process anything...I...I am the most advanced prototype created by Cyberlife up to date. Why wouldn't I be capable of understanding your feedback?"

He was so close, heat radiating off of him and against your torso, synthetic breath hitting your forehead as you looked up at him, his doe eyes trained on nothing but your own. And you were completely alone.

Your mind stopped thinking, and your feelings took over your every action.

He was at your mercy as you gave in to everything: your frustration, your want, your love for him, infatuated with the closeness and the warmth and the feeling of Connor standing so dangerously close to you. 

You buried your hands in his hair, fingers knotting the soft, perfect dark locks between them as you pulled him downwards, just enough to smash your lips against his.

Connor's hands landed on the wooden article behind you, propping himself up on either side of you while he seemed frozen. Connor's lips were parted in the slightest as you continued brushing your lips lovingly against his, starved and needy for the affection you had deprived yourself of.

His lips tasted of nothing in particular, however were invitingly soft, imitating a human's to perfection. You couldn't resist cradling his face gently and melting into the kiss, hoping he would do the same.

However Connor refused to move. The whole process felt exactly like kissing a warm statue or an empty shell of a human. And it hurt. Worse than the prolonged pain stemming from the past week's events, it was like a punch right in the gut, followed by the twist of a knife that ripped through your diaphragm. 

Connor didn't feel the same about you. He couldn't feel the same. 

You parted slowly, removing your hands from his jaw, Connor's soft, fake exhale tickling your cheeks. His thick lashes fluttered, revealing the doe, utterly confused eyes underneath. His LED was a dark, anxious red as he stumbled backwards. Connor was confused, frightened and absolutely perturbed, mind spinning with search results about love, affection and kissing. And about you.

"Detective, what-" He stopped himself before he could continue, bringing his fingertips to his mouth, just the way he always did when analyzing blood. He touched them in an almost shocked manner, LED still flashing red, then fading to a yellow.

"I'm...oh God, I'm so sorry." You breathed out, not daring to look him in the eye.

"It's alright. I...I will be leaving." He explained and practically rushed to the front door, ripping it open. "Have a...pleasant night, detective." 

Of course he didn't feel the same.

Connor hurried inside the autonomous car before you could say anything else, leaving you staring out into the night, with a knot tightening in your throat.

What had you done?


	5. Chapter 5

You didn't even try anymore. For over a week, you hadn't even bothered to show up at work, much less leave your house for anything else other than groceries.

And you knew it was utterly pathetic: you were heartbroken because of a fucking machine, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help retorting to drinking the pain of rejection and your self-loathing away.

So there you were, sitting in your kitchen at eleven PM, sipping whiskey and holding a cigarette in the other hand, a plate of buttered bread in front of you. You hadn't eaten properly in days, and you were desperately trying to fix that, in spite of your stomach always protesting against any sort of food. You were empty, a numb pit in your stomach, a disgusting mix of nausea, physical and mental pain. Eating properly wasn't exactly the first thing on your mind.

It felt like someone was tying a string around your throat, tightening the knot further and further.

You extinguished the cigar in an empty glass of water, then took another sip from the whiskey, swallowing back your tears with it. How could you have been stupid enough to fall for an Android, and to love a soulless machine with such dedication? Such blindness, foolishness?

How could-

A knock resonated against your front door. 

You didn't bother getting it, and took another sip from the beverage, suppressing a sigh. Whoever it was, it couldn't be important enough for you to actually get up.

"Detective? Please open the door!"

That voice was unmistakable.

You clenched your fingers around the whiskey glass tighter, brows furrowing. You had already proven how much you lacked self control when it came to Connor, and you were not planning on risking anything else again. Especially not when you were slowly starting to get over your foolish crush on him.

"Detective (l/n)? I know you're home! Open the door!" 

Not happening.

"Detective!" He insisted, twisting the doorknob and causing the door to rattle.

He really was trying to make this difficult, wasn't he? Couldn't Connor just understand that he was the last person you wanted to see at that moment?

"(Y/n), please! I-..." Connor's voice faded into silence, and you could have sworn you heard him take a deep breath. "I'm scared."

He was...he was feeling? Actually feeling something?

Before you could process it, you had already rushed to the door, unlocking it with unsteady, yet hasty movements. 

You ripped it open without hesitation, standing face to face with Connor only seconds later. He looked as perfect as ever, however his eyes, his face-he was utterly terrified. The Android's LED was flashing an aggressive red.

"You...opened. Thank you, detective." Relief washed over his expression, LED flickering blue for a second, then returning to red again.

You wanted to tackle him in a hug, your mind getting drunk on his mere presence. Connor was here. And he was...feeling. Well, fear, but still. It was a start. And perhaps later on, he could- No, you could-

You became hurtfully aware of your current attire and the state of your house, and realized that it still was Connor that had hurt you not more than a week ago. You were welcoming him with open arms, in spite of him being the very cause of your pitiful state.

"Connor-" You squeezed your eyes shut, tightening your grip on the doorknob. You had no idea what to ask, or where to start. You couldn't even believe he was right there. In front of you. It was all so surreal: the very thing you had longed for to happen, yet hated thinking about. "Why? Why are you here?"

He shifted around awkwardly, making you forget about everything for a moment, reminding you of the simplistic bliss that seemed years away. Back at Chicken Feed, where you had talked with him and Hank. Back when your feelings for him started.

"I..." You could clearly see him swallow a mouthful of synthetic saliva, playing with his hands while he thought. He looked absolutely restless.

He shouldn't have been there. You shouldn't have been having that conversation. And yet you were. You needed to put an end to it, quickly. Before you got hurt again. Or before you lost control of yourself. 

"You should leave." You spoke sternly, struggling not to show the obvious shakiness and uncertainty going on inside you. Your stomach flipped at the thought of Connor wandering through the streets of Detroit, all alone, confused with his newfound ability to feel fear, perturbed, lost. You didn't want him to leave, in spite of demanding it.

Connor immediately stopped fidgeting, eyes trained on your face decisively. He straightened his posture.

"No." He answered, mirroring your faked sternness. Your brows furrowed even further as you backed away from the door. 

How dare he... How dare he break your heart, then show up only a week later, ask you for help, and then refuse to leave, after you had requested it? Did he want to hurt you? To see you suffer, in spite of your already pathetic state?

"You don't get to show up out of nowhere and ask for help after leaving me heartbr-..." You answered, the sentence getting stuck in your throat. It hurt to say it out loud. It was painful to admit that you were heartbroken over an Android. That you were longing for the affection of a machine. Pitiful.

"And you don't get to leave me like this." He spoke with the same diplomacy as always, however his LED was blinking with a brooding, anxious red. "Not after compromising me."

You sucked in a breath. What?

"Compromising you? Wha- When did I compromise you?" 

Connor balled his hands into fists as he looked at you, taking a deep breath. The tension between the two of you was heavy, like the calm before a storm.

"When you..." He looked away before finishing his sentence, concealing an emotion you couldn't identify.

You stood in silence for a few dreadful moments, staring into his dark, doe eyes. Then you knew. You knew you had to help. You couldn't...You would never decline helping the person you loved.

"Agh, fuck. Just-... Just come in at least." His tense frame relaxed at your words, and you took a deep breath. You gestured for Connor to enter, which he gladly did. "Have a seat...somewhere." You looked at the big mess that your living room was, and rushed to move some scattered objects from your couch to make some room for the both of you.

"Thank you, detective." Connor answered politely, then took a seat. As quick and sharp as always, he had already analyzed your entire living room in a jiffy. "You've been...drinking heavily." He added.

"I didn't let you in to make you analyze my drinking habits." You answered, then sighed in defeat. "Just tell me what you need."

"I- after the visit I've payed to you...I started...I was...feeling."

Had he just...no.

No, no, no.

It was impossible for him to turn deviant, right? That was what Cyberlife had claimed: Connor was their most advanced prototype, deviant-proof. And yet-

"Explain." You demanded.

Connor only stayed silent, staring at you. 

"I can't explain something I can't comprehend, (y/n)." The poor Android could only furrow his brows and stare at the floor as he struggled to form sentences, his clear diction long lost.

You could clearly hear his quick, ragged breathing and whirring fans while he struggled to say something, anything, but couldn't. In spite of his perfect posture and almost completely neutral expression, Connor looked blatantly lost.

Had you caused all of this? Ruining your own life with your sentiments was one thing, but destroying someone else's, Connor's-it left an even deeper pit in your chest. You were a horrible person. God, you had destroyed Connor's entire investigation, made his life unnecessarily harder, just with your stupid crush on him.

There must have been a way to fix him, right? To help him stop his deviating process?

"What exactly are you feeling?" You spoke carefully, reaching to lay a hand on his shoulder, hoping to mollify him or at least lower his stress. You weren't even sure if he could physically feel, but you wanted to be selfish. To touch him, even if it was something as virginal and trivial as laying a hand on his shoulder.

Connor's eyes drifted to where you were touching him. You quickly removed your hand, realizing that it might have made him uncomfortable. Or worse, resentful towards you. He had all the rights to be, after all.

"All I know is that I've been compromised." Connor repeated, glancing at you bitterly. You could clearly see the deep crease between his brows, and how distressed his gaze was. Not to mention his LED, which was going erratic with red. "I've become obsolete. It's only a question of time before Cyberlife shuts me down."

You weren't planning on accepting that. There had to be something you could do, some way you could save him, help him! You weren't planning on just letting Connor die, not after he was starting to deviate.

"Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help you?"

"I've analyzed all possible outcomes." He spoke, voice going robotic before he shook his head. "There is one way."

"Okay. Tell me about it. I- No wait, hold that thought. I'll go get my phone, I'll call Hank, we'll figure something out. Together. I know we can-"

"It would imply transferring my memory to a non-deviant Connor model and deactivating myself."

"No. No, no, no." You shook your head and returned to Connor, grabbing his wrist tightly, urging him to look you in the eye. "We are not doing that. I'm not just going to let you kill yourse-"

"I don't want to die either, (y/n)." His voice was soft, far softer than your own anxious one, and yet it was enough to silence you completely. You had never witnessed Connor look so broken and desperate. You had never thought a machine could. "But most importantly, I don't want to die by the hands of Cyberlife."

"So you'd rather..."

"Deactivate myself, and, and ensure the mission goes smoothly." He completed your sentence calmly, as if killing himself was the most natural, rational thing in the world. "But I just...I wanted..." Connor took a deep, anxious breath.

"Hey, it's okay. Take your time." You reassured him, lifting yourself off the couch and crouching down in front of him, holding his distressed gaze. 

"We- I don't have time." He murmured. "I'll have thirty minutes before my deactivation if I'm lucky. I know Amanda knows. I know I...I know I disappointed her, (y/n), I disappointed everyone."

You had no idea who Amanda was, although you guessed it had something to do with Cyberlife. But that didn't matter, not at that moment. 

All that mattered was comforting Connor before everything would end. Before he was going to be deactivated. The least you could do was make his last minutes a bit more acceptable, more painless.

"You didn't disappoint me." You smiled in spite of the forming knot in your throat. "You...you're the most wonderful person I've ever met."

He laughed.

Connor actually laughed.

It was short, but also the most angelic sound you had ever heard, like a symphony of a divine musical instrument, a masterpiece painted in his voice. 

"I'm not a person." He spoke afterwards, pain planted deep inside the words he spoke with such diplomacy. 

"Of course you are. You've always been." You bit your lip to refrain from crying, trying not to let the tears fall. Connor hadn't even gotten the chance to discover deviancy, feelings, or himself, and he was already going to die. Of a premature death by the hands of the company that had created him.

"I'm scared." He admitted with a deep breath, then reached for his white Android shirt, lifting it just enough to slither his other hand below it.

"Connor, what..."

"I want to deactivate in peace." He whispered meekly. "I apologize for being in such a pathetic state, but I...you were the first person that came to mind. I hoped...I hoped I could find...I don't know. I don't know." He removed his hand, placing it in his lap before balling it into a fist.

You could only reach out and place one hand on his back, which finally caused him to break. Every single suppressed emotion, doubt, fear, it all clicked into place as he slowly let himself melt into the embrace, joining you on your living room carpet.

"I'm sorry." Connor whispered. 

"It's okay." He irradiated warmth against your skin, and you could swear you felt his body tremble against yours oh-so-subtly. Connor was utterly terrified, and there was nothing you could do about it. The person you loved needed comfort, and you were clueless about how to provide it, how to make it all just a little less painful. "It's all going to be okay."

His chest was rising and falling quickly, artificial breathing ragged and uncalculated, his forehead rested against your shoulders, the both of you kneeling on the floor in front of each-other. You ran your hand up and down his back in a hopeless attempt to soothe him.

And it worked. 

His breaths slowed, trembling slowly ceasing.

"This...feels nice." He concluded after a few seconds. "I, I didn't realize it before. (Y/n) do you...I...I would like deactivating with this feeling in mind."

His words felt like a punch in the gut, but you couldn't deny his request. You didn't dare to. Because you wanted to hold him close like this too. You had longed for this.

"May I? Could you...could we stay like this?" 

"Of course."

"Thank you." Connor whispered, then moved away from you in the slightest. You felt him tense against you, his hand moving between your bodies, under his shirt, stopping above where his diaphragm would've been.

"You don't have to do this." You murmured through a tightening throat.

"I prefer this. It's quiet. It's just you and me. Peaceful." He whispered, his voice once again going quiet, putting emphasis on the last word. Something flickered blue under his shirt as his fingers moved around it. "(Y/n), will you...stay with me? Until I deactivate? Please?"

"I promise." You bit your lip, watching the light on his torso flicker red, along with the LED on his forehead. Only seconds later, he pulled his hand out, holding a small, metallic piece, white shirt immediately soaking with navy blue. He inhaled deeply, back arching as he was starting to have trouble breathing.

Thirium pump regulator removed. Time before shutdown: 01:24

"Thank...you. For, hah, showing me. What affection and...l-love feel like." Connor whispered through gritted teeth, voice robotic, one hand clutching his Thirium pump and the other balling into a fist behind your back as he held you close.

"Shh. There's nothing to thank me for." You brushed your fingers through his dark locks, cradling his head. "You deserve so much more than this. You deserve a life, the chance to discover yourself, to experience all the wonderful things out there."

His blood was soaking through your clothes as well, but you didn't care. All that mattered was Connor.

"Tell me...something. Anything." He whispered, voice sounding like an old, barely working engine at that point. "About...those things you want me...to, hah, to experience."

"Anything?"

He nodded weakly. You still held him, but moved to be able to see his face. Blue blood had run down his chin from the corners of his mouth, lips stained with Thirium. His eyes were fluttering closed every now and them, as if he were looking at something too bright, brows furrowed slightly. Your carpet, as well as his and your clothes were soaked with blue.

"There's...colorful lights on the streets just before Christmas, making dumb jokes with your friends, sitting on the front porch during summer with a glass of lemonade in your hand, folding airplanes out of paperwork...or um, or looking at old family photos, thinking about the future...making snow angels, taking hot showers after a cold day, or holding someone you love close..." Your voice faded, realizing that Connor's eyes were slowly fluttering closed, expression relaxing.

Time before shutdown: 00:06

"I'm thankful I experienced at least one of these things." 

And then Connor froze into place, a soft, peaceful smile gracing his features.


End file.
